[ It makes something in her ache to withdraw her hand again, to wrap it around the cold bottle of beer. The sensation is like a tactile metaphor for her life, every bit of warmth and comfort stripped away when she was torn from the people she loves and the work that gives her life purpose. But, for just a moment, she'd been able to forget.
She's grateful for that.
Like the flower. His words bring out another smile with a fondness tinged with old pain. ]
My mom used to sing that old song to me when I was a baby. You know, the one with the bicycle built for two?
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[ It makes something in her ache to withdraw her hand again, to wrap it around the cold bottle of beer. The sensation is like a tactile metaphor for her life, every bit of warmth and comfort stripped away when she was torn from the people she loves and the work that gives her life purpose. But, for just a moment, she'd been able to forget.
She's grateful for that.
Like the flower. His words bring out another smile with a fondness tinged with old pain. ]
My mom used to sing that old song to me when I was a baby. You know, the one with the bicycle built for two?